


Memento Vivere, Memento Mori

by Emerian



Category: Fate/Apocrypha
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Minor Karna/Vrushali, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-03 13:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerian/pseuds/Emerian
Summary: Sometimes bringing home "souvenirs" are more trouble than they're worth. At the very least, Duryodhana couldn't blame him for following his forced vacation to a tee.(Snapshots of before and after Indraprastha’s succession crisis is settled.)





	Memento Vivere, Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> two hours before the draft expires. time to finish this before i lose it all.

“I just wanna give him another biteeee...” she whines into Karna’s achkan. “Just. _One_. It's not like I'm asking for a hand.”

"And I would prefer you to leave him intact." 

The man in question is torn between being impressed and annoyed at his hand being bandaged by his personal physician as the head chef fires question after question, but is pouring all of his energy into last-minute checks. Karna still harbors doubts about being so brazen about his return but it’s not like he can refuse Duryodhana’s well-meaning gestures. In truth, he appreciates it. Even if he’s sure the Pandavas will be affronted over being excluded.

What worth is there left in forcing Karna to go on sabbatical as a last resort to put the succession crisis on hold only to explode when he returns? Duryodhana's truly, utterly and undeniably harebrained at times, but it warms his heart to know his best friend can’t settle for anything less.

She sighs like a frustrated sheep, headbutting his back when it's Atalanta who pats her head in sympathy. 

Karna twists around to see her. Her grin's a hundred percent rage when she lifts her head, hands still clutching his sides. 

“Didn’t you hear him call me a ‘plump snake?!’” Mordred protests. “My pride’s at stake if I can’t get him back for it!”

"I did." Perhaps he was too lenient in letting her have her way whenever they encountered potential enemies in the Archipelago. Even if there were certainly times more often than not when he, Atalanta and Mordred were on their guard day and night. After all, it'd be troublesome if Mordred keeps mistaking playfulness for hostility from his friends and family. "Whether or not you choose to take it personally is up to you. He has a tendency to reveal whatever’s on his mind. Can you fault him for a trait you also possess?" 

Mordred releases another whine and burrows into him again. “But I don’t insult people unless they’re asking for it.”

”Perhaps not, but assertiveness and aggressiveness seems to be the same thing to you,” Atalanta adds. Her nose twitches as the appetizers' scent drifts over to them. “Karna, you said we’d eat in a few hours?”

"You starving?" Mordred asks.

“I'm used to hunting down my food whenever I wished before we met. ...and gorging myself." 

He doesn’t remark on her slight embarrassment as her hands intertwine in a mockery of pulling and releasing a bowstring. 

“I appreciate the hesitancy, but you needn’t wait for the banquet to start,” Karna says. “There is plenty of game within the forests around Anga.” 

It’s not an an exaggeration to state Atalanta’s claws are out every time someone passes too closely nor Mordred fidgeting with her new clothes. He suspects they enjoyed the benefits of a tropical environment a little too much in spite of Mordred complaining about sand getting into her scales and Atalanta panting from the scalding heat. 

“You have my thanks,” Atalanta says. “Mordred, are you—”

A nod Karna suspects is too enthusiastic is all Atalanta needs to set off with their problem child in tow. With that settled, he glances back at Duryodhana. He's still deep in discussion, so Karna finally takes his leave. In all honesty, it's for the better if Mordred and Atalanta aren't at his side when he goes to meet Vrushali. 

~~~~

With most of the palace's residents, staff, and bystanders roped into ensuring festivities, Karna finds the gardens' silence a blessing, especially as Vrushali pulls him along to their favorite pavilion, chattering about the little things he missed. Duryodhana always throws himself into every endeavor he gets involved in, but he'd appreciate it if he can restrain himself from letting the enthusiasm bleed into his throat. Ashwatthama yells enough for the both of them. 

Vrushali mentions how Vikarna has yet created another bloated cat left to wander the palace with his inability to judge the amount of food required to feed a small, domestic cat again. Sometimes, even Karna's hard-pressed in believing he's one of the most trustworthy Kauravas. He’s a living hazard, on and off the battlefield.

In return, he tells her about how troublesome it was to get enough food for a dragon, a werelion, and a numen. Atalanta's casual propensity for murder and Mordred's destructiveness do not a dinner make. 

She tells him Duryodhana was in a slump during the first few weeks after Karna left. 

He tells her about the underwater labyrinths and Mordred got stuck in a crevice when she tried to make her own path to the treasure. Atalanta suggested leaving her behind for a few hours so she could think about the consequences of her actions, but Karna argued they needed her as a lantern. Then she’d said they could break the wall in such a way they could drag her around. 

She tells him about Yudthishira visiting her more often. How he likes to chat with her over tea, about inconsequential things, about grand things, about his older brother Karna to his sister-in-law.

He tells her about when the pirates, how they tried to ensnare him in some trap involving the slaves the trio freed and he doesn’t hesitate about revealing the pirates’ motivations. It is different from divulging things to Duryodhana, Duryodhana who has always understood him, but there are things Karna likes to keep private, to take one more burden of his hands. Before Vrushali, Karna is not His Majesty’s spear—because some things can’t be forgotten with his best friend—he is Vasusena, Vrushali’s husband.

He tells her, “‘All we want is the spearman. Kill the rest.’”

Karna watches the information sink into her. Even if the period in which he was separated from her was longer than a mere four months, he will never fail to recognize the way her eyebrows crinkle in concern. From there, he gives a truncated account of the strange pirates and how desperate they were to acquire his divine blood. He cannot help but frown as he talks, crossing his arms. When he gets to Hector’s part, she cuts him off. She looks visibly disturbed.

"...such heavy topics shouldn't be discussed on a fine night," Vrushali says reluctantly, voice unsure but comforting as ever. He relishes in how she understands him, without ever having to alter his tone or intent. "I think we can postpone the inevitable for one night." Her hands drift closer with each word.

"Indeed." Karna guides their journey to his sides, two hands finding their way home. To reassure herself that he's solid, here, _warm—_after a moment, Karna holds back a smile as he increases his body's temperature to the amount he knows she prefers during the winter and almost immediately, Vrushali retreats, stepping back and wipes off sweat along her brow, but a few snorts and chuckles slip free here and there.

“I apologize.” Karna reaches for her hand again, bringing it up for a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “I thought you missed me at your side as your personal heater." 

“Don't feign ignorance,” Vrushali says once he looks back up. “It doesn't suit someone as stern as you.”

“You truly believe I’ll become stricter in the near future?” he halfheartedly raises an eyebrow. He bows his head slightly so she can trace his smile’s curve with her other hand. “Shouldn’t a seer already know the truth? Or has your craft waned in my absence?”

Her hand moves to his cheek as she hums. “I think not. Without you overheating our bed in the summer, you’ll find that I’ve more energy to push myself in my true calling!”

“Then regale me with what you believe I did in the rest of my travels," he teases, pulling her into a hug. "Spare no effort or you'll be explaining to everyone how the guest of honor has retired early." 

She stiffens. As she insists that, _no, Karna just had a sleep debt to work off usually when she finally relayed the stories she'd been jotting down, maybe it was a sign he needed to stop working so hard all the time, _Karna tucks her head under his chin. He can afford to draw out this moment in time. 

\- - -

The forest shrinks around her in response to her bones twisting and turning from the bloodlust, bleeding raw with rage from every step, when Atalanta stops straddling the line between beast and human, and gives in to the instincts tearing her apart. They are well-trodden, burning her stomach with gnawing hunger as she looks down at Shakuni.

One of Duryodhana’s brothers—Dushasana, she thinks—is speaking to her in dulcet tones, saying that Karna is still alive and she needs to stop before she’ll eat Shakuni along with what exactly he’d done to their beloved Angaraja. Even as he continues, guards aim their spears at her. She considers his words. They won’t get it out of Shakuni unless drastic measures are made.

In the end, she is still a beast and nothing will change it. It has been so very long since she feasted on human flesh—but she roars until she’s sure it has drowned her belly’s pitiful rumbles and echoes in her chest. She sends Shakuni scrambling back, falling over from another roar that scatters birds and guards alike, pinning him under a steadfast paw. Shakuni meekly answers Dushasana's questions after Atalanta keeps leaning forward with no sign of stopping, promising a crushed torso. They only raise more questions that leader to more dead ends as his fear overwhelms his answers.

Dushasana stares at her in disapproval. It doesn’t matter. Something needs to be done.

Eventually someone finds a black folio with blank pages, held fast by a string of iridescent pearls, on his person when she reluctantly releases him. 

As Dushasana hands it off to a courier, he tells her it’s up to Krishna and Yudhishthira to decipher its secrets, much to her distaste. She understands this is a problem requiring outside help, but this also means being in their debt. 

He’s studying her with cool eyes when she says they cannot afford such weaknesses.

“I know,” he agrees calmly. “But there isn't another option, is there? This is all we can do for the others." 

There is always a choice. 

"Where is Duryodhana?" she says instead. His conviction is lacking. Everyone here is. 

When the guards let her into Duryodhana's personal study, she walks into a hurricane masquerading itself as a debrief boring down upon a fearful courier.

”But he is—!”

_“He is not gone yet!”_ Duryodhana howls. He sinks to his knees in front of a covered-up lump as the courier flees for his life, slipping past Atalanta before the door closes behind her.

A lump, she realizes with sobering clarity, shaped like a person.

This is where Karna’s body rests for the foreseeable future on a divan off to the side, a blanket hastily thrown over him. Duryodhana’s still kneeling in front of his best friend, and it's as if he's trying to breathe for two people.

She frowns at the lack of security other than the guards. Magicians are all-too desperate are to work with Numen flesh for their unsightly thaumaturgy. She does not doubt his strength but he‘s one against many. Atalanta can't leave both unattended.

"Atalanta," he says in a chillingly calm voice when he finally notices her. “I trust you were aiding efforts as best as you could?" 

She does not blame him for a frigid reception, however misguided it is.

But her silence simmers with a deep anger running through her veins, boiling her skin, and it is all she can think about. She can't bring herself to answer, mouth full of ash. But, well. Duryodhana understands it. More than her fellow escapees back then when they asked her what she was going to forge her future into. More than Karna ever had—of course he _had_ to harbor some resentment but he never held a genuine grudge against his birth mother because she had no choice. It never mattered to him again after he married Vrushali and made his own family and friends. His anger has cooled into a shield to protect them. Atalanta still envies him for that.

After all these years, all she knows is how to kill. She knows Meleager would be saddened to hear this, but if he couldn’t help her, no one could. 

Duryodhana—he understands the anger fueling their actions. Karna and Mordred are familiar with the rage wrapping around them like a shroud, but it is not a natural thing for them. Rage is not a kind thing and it’s all he needs to understand her silence, her unspoken words.

Even though the man before her is completely human, he somehow connects with her on a primal level.

And with a sharp nod, he throws himself back into the discussion without restraint.

This is what he tells her.

Duryodhana matches her fury as he paces back and forth, mimicking a frothing werewolf over his dear friend’s state, and even more so upon hearing Yudhishthira being the first in offering assistance to Karna’s not-quite widow. It doesn’t matter how their road to reconciliation is being paved, somethings are simply unforgivable. Mordred is stuck in her human form, but being a gangly child won’t stop her from protecting Vrushali. They’ve retreated to a distant room. Allies, enemies, neighbors are being dealt with.

That’s when Atalanta decides she’s heard enough. Politics may be the same as stalking prey and waiting for the right moment but her bark lacks equal finesse to her bite. Though aside from getting her part straight, he didn’t seem interested in her commentary and she’s fine with that. It's time to talk about Karna, even if he seemingly doesn't want to.

“Have you been to Achaea?” Atalanta asks when he finally falls silent, unable to keep talking. She doesn’t wait for him to answer. “On Mount Pelion, there resides a centaur who is known rearing several heroes, all renowned and successful in their own ways. But his skill in healing surpasses any other feat he boasts. He shouldn't turn away those in dire straits."

"That won't be necessary." Duryodhana shakes his head and the way he turns away to physically dismiss Atalanta and her solutions sends a jolt of raw anger that trips her up. She looses what little of her composure she had.

“I wouldn’t be telling you about that damn centaur if I thought—”

“There’s no shortage of accomplished healers—"

"Affiliated with the Pandavas—"

_"What I must sacrifice for him does not mater! _To live—to continue living without him is...unthinkable. It does not matter!" 

"He will care!" Atalanta surprises herself with the vehemence she spits with. 

He turns on her with an icy ferocity. His glare could have killed a weaker person.

"It does not matter," he repeats, low and dangerous, but this time, there is a silent helplessness that can only be made by all the worse with his standing. All of his power, and it amounts to nothing in the face of mortality. "I have given him everything, and he has given me everything. We owe each other to be no less than continue as we are." his teeth gnash under his fury. "Whichever he is—my brother, my friend, my champion—I will never forgive myself if I do not try!" 

”...but none with divine parentage."

Finally, blessedly, he stills at her words. 

“Chiron is a Numen,” Atalanta clarifies. “Of Time—but some decades ago he renounced his father's side and survived. If there is anyone who can help Karna, Chiron can."

She's exhausted at how it hard it is to drive a nail through his thick skull, how long and how many measures it take to have it slowly dawn over him.

“Atalanta—" the quietness of his voice startles her. Duryodhana’s still rubbing his face, but he finally sits down with a weary sigh. She feels like his sheer relief is something she shouldn't be witnessing. It's almost unbearable in its sincerity. “Thank you.” 

It's hard to trust people who can't trust themselves—Atalanta knows this keenly. But these people—they never ask anything of her that she can't follow through. A future with these people is worth fighting for, worth putting aside her grudge against Chiron, worth returning to Greece for. 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for my birthday so this is really self-indulgent. it's just the general beginning and ending of the second arc, his majesty's spear. next would be the calydonian hunt in which atalanta unwillingly joins the infamous tourney of greek warriors vying for a prize.
> 
> anyway not to be dramatic but i would die for vrushali/karna content. 
> 
> numen=demigods, but divine elementals.  
-Karna, Semiramis + Achilles (Half-Nymph), Jeanne + Fran (Artificial)  
werecreatures/therianthropes=humans who can shapeshift into a creature  
-Atalanta (Werelion, artificial), Siegfried (Dragon, artificial)


End file.
